


I am the Doctor

by phminehalo



Series: Doctor Who [1]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Doctor - Freeform, Eleventh Doctor Era, Matt Smith - Freeform, beloved country, cry - Freeform, cry beloved country, doctor who - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2018-01-03 13:46:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1071153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phminehalo/pseuds/phminehalo





	I am the Doctor

I’m The Doctor  
By Patrick Hernandez  
Doctor Who is written by Stephen Moffat  
and property of BBC

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Paton uses deep thought to portray a feeling; a stance. “He turned with relief to the thought of rebuilding, to the home that they would fashion, he and his wife, in the evening of their lives, for gertrude and her son, and for his son and the girl and the child...Yes, with a greater humility, for had his own sister not been a prostitute? And his son a thief? And might not he himself be grandfather to a child that would have no name? This he thought without bitterness, though with pain”(Paton 120). This shows the emotion Kumalo feels as he thinks to bringing them home. In my story, I use this in a similar way. “Gertrude lie there, in her bed. She was unable to sleep; the morning was when she had to leave this life, but the argument brewing inside was not of that. That was certain. What was not, was how. How was she going to fix her life? She could not return to Ndotsheni; she had lost that right long ago. She did not want to face the people she used to call friends and family; the ones she disgraced.  
She had sinned, and she had to repent them to God. God, the loving God, God to us all. She knew she would have to do it.  
-A Nun. That would save me in the eyes of God, becoming a Nun. She said.  
Just then she heard a strange sound. It sounded like the Satanic screeching of a Banshee. This was it, God was punishing her. All the sin piled up, and he let her hear.” She thinks to going back, with pain, as does Kumalo. Paton uses it again at “after he had finished the second time, he sat smoking his pipe and was lost in thought” (Paton 179-180). This time he used it literally, instead of describing it. He shows that the father is confused about his son, and then compares it to the next thing he read; the “Gettysburg Address”.  
Paton uses the imagery of a “toy train” to show the reader what he is describing, by activating your memory of a “toy train”. “The small toy train climbs up on its narrow gouge from the Umzimkulu valley into the hills” (Paton 41). He uses this to tac on his detail onto the reader’s image. I use this to literally use the same parallel structure as him. “-They are like ants. Like something a child would play with.  
-Yes, like a toy train, climbing up on its narrow gauge from the Umzimkulu valley into the hills. He said.  
-What? She asked.  
-Nothing... It’s a book.” I use this to literally compare the book into the story, keeping the reader interested. Paton uses a similar style in the story, to produce the same effect, but then to immediately transform that into a sound. “The great bull voice is speaking there in the square” (Paton 216). This effectively uses this style to pull an image out, and pop his idea on the end.  
Paton also uses the repetition of the word “permissible”, and the parallelism of saying it was permissible to do something. “It was permissible when we discovered gold to bring labor to the mines. It was permissible to to build compounds and to keep women and children away from the towns. It was permissible as an experiment, the light of with certain exceptions, it is no longer permissible. It is not permissible for us to go on destroying family life when we know that we are destroying it” (Paton 178). This is used to heavily criticize the use of the mines by Johannesburg. In my story, I use it to criticize his view of things needing to be “wrong”. “Permissible? It was permissible to let you leave your home in the hills! It was permissible to sell yourself to the lowest of the low, it was permissible for me to have come here.” I also use it to support the story. These are both using this to criticize a debatable topic. Paton also uses it later to criticize the lack of use of the tribal system. “It was permissible to allow the destruction of a tribal system that impeded the growth of the country” (Paton 179).

He opened Gertrude’s door, and held up his candle. But Gertrude was gone. The little boy was there. But Gertrude was gone.  
I Am The Doctor  
6 hours 10 minutes ago; 11:50 PM. Gertrude lie there, in her bed. She was unable to sleep; the morning was when she had to leave this life, but the argument brewing inside was not of that. That was certain. What was not, was how. How was she going to fix her life? She could not return to Ndotsheni; she had lost that right long ago. She did not want to face the people she used to call friends and family; the ones she disgraced.  
She had sinned, and she had to repent them to God. God, the loving God, God to us all. She knew she would have to do it.  
-God save me, I need forgiveness, and guidance towards other’s forgiveness.  
-A Nun. That would save me in the eyes of God, becoming a Nun. She said.  
Just then she heard a strange sound. It sounded like the Satanic screeching of a Banshee.  
-What is that?  
Is this god? She thought. Is this his punishment? She thought. This was it, God was punishing her. All the sin piled up, and he let her hear his might.  
-God no! She said. She jumped out of bed, and ran to the window. She got on her knees and prayed. She felt that this was the only way to save her life. She had to ask for forgiveness.  
-No! Please God! Not now! She prayed. Then it stopped. The “Satanic screeching” stopped. This was followed by a deep boom, like something large settling. For a moment it was silent. Her jaw dropped, just sitting there she was shocked. He had answered her prayers!  
-Oh lord, I thank you. You have granted me my life. She thanked.  
Then there was a knock on the door. Knock Knock Knock Knock. Four times. She came back to this world, and stood up. She rushed to the door quietly, as not to wake Kumalo. The door knocked again, four times. She opened the door to a square white man wearing a bow tie. He looked odd, like a crazy person.  
-Yeah, hi. He said. I seem to be quite lost.  
-Uh... Yes, quite... She said confused, standing at the door.  
-Yes quite... He responded looking about slowly. Now, I must have taken a wrong turn at Napoleon. He said holding a paper model of some sort of deformed shape, pointing to it as if it was a map.  
-Now, could you show me the way to President Obama’s second inaugural address? He asked as if she understood.  
-Uh, wh... She asked.  
-Yes, you don't know. Because if that didn’t take me there, which is almost certainly not here, then this is wrong. He said as he points to where Napoleon is on his “map”, and then drags his finger around the object, opens a flap, and points to the top right corner of the inside of the flap, President Obama’s speech was. Then he threw it behind him, onto the ground. I was right, time can’t be expressed in a 3D representation, of the whole entirety of the Universe. Too wibbly wobbly. He said.  
-Time-what? She asked.  
-Yes, yes. Timey-wimey. He responded quickly. Now, what year is it?  
-What? it’s 1946. She answered very confused on why he would need to know.  
-1946? Well then I was way off. He said looking at his imaginary watch. Uh where am I? What country? He asked.  
-Uh... South Africa. She responded. Uh, I have to uh, go...  
-No, no, no, no. He said, lightly grabbing her arm. What’d you say?  
-South Africa, Are you alright?  
-Oh, no. He responded.  
-What? She asked, knowing absolutely nothing of what he was talking about.  
-Oh, no. Not here, not now. He said walking out.  
-Hey! Why is that bad? Where are you going? She asked, noticing a blue box outside of her house, that was not there before. What is tha... She said unable to finish her sentence.  
-It’s... He said unable to finish his sentence, because she immediately started talking again, as soon as he talked.  
-What is it! Why is it here! Did you bring it here? She demanded.  
-Look, look! Stop. Uh! He said fearing her.  
-Get it off! Take it back! Go away! She said angrily. Take it! She said, hitting the box.  
Another screeching sound started, but different this time it was a bell. She looked up at the box, and saw that it read “Police Public Call Box”. It started to fade away. The man looked over to it.  
-No! No, no, no, no, no! He said quickly, banging on, what appeared to be a door. Not now! He said as the box fully disappeared. He put his hands on his head, and let out a groan. Realizing she’d done something bad, she stopped. She watched him pace back and forth, knowing he was really in trouble.  
-Wha...What did I do? She asked. Why is it gone?  
-What? uh... He said, stopping, and looking back at her TARDIS relocation manifold. He responded, before continuing pacing.  
-...  
-Oh wait. He said again stopping and looking at her. You don’t know me. He said hitting his head. I’m the Doctor, by the way. He said running towards the house.  
-Wait! She said, stopping him from going inside. Doctor Who?  
-Ohh! powerful question, mate. He said, dismissing her and opening the door.  
-No! She said, quieting herself when the door was open.  
He strided in, pulling out something from his pocket. It made a buzzing sound, and looked like is was glowing green at the top. He started to look at it, as if it was telling him something. He moved around, once turning around.  
-Ooh! Huh? He said confused, hitting the object.  
-What is that? Why aren’t you answering me? She asked, being ignored. OI! She said.  
-What? He said, finally unglued from the object. She pointed to Kumalo, sleeping on the couch. He turned around, and said “Ohh!” He turned back, with a “oops, I did something wrong” face on. He slowly walked out of the house. Once out of the house, he held the object up once more, then looking at it.  
She closed the door, and stepped outside. She looked embarrassed, but not the shy kind; the “What’s going on right now” one.  
-So. She said. Care to explain? She asked.  
-Why would you...I need to do that he said, once again stumbling on his own words and confused. Oh wait. Yeah, you don’t know me. He said hitting his head twice. I’m the Doctor. Oh wait I said that didn’t I? He said, once again hitting his head. Uh, TARDIS. He said, pointing to where the blue Police box was. -Uh, well that was the TARDIS. Sonic Screwdriver. He said holding up the buzzing object.  
-What does it do? She asked.  
-Time And Relative Dimensions In Space, it’s a time ship. I’m a Time Lord, by the way, the last Time Lord. He responded.  
-No, no, the thing you’ve been using! She corrected.  
-Oh this? He said holding the screwdriver up. It scans, and tells me information about things.  
-Things? She asked.  
-Yes, things. Things. What’s wrong with things? He answered looking back and forth to the screwdriver.  
-Nothing. What happened to the box thing, the TARDIOSSIS thing? She asked.  
-It’s TARDIS, by the way, and when you hit it the TARDIS relocated itself. He answered, now past the corner of the house, facing the street. He continues to look at the screwdriver.  
-Why did it do that? She asked, turning her head.  
-Whenever it gets attacked, it moves a safe distance from the object, so you hitting it caused me to lose my ride. He responded, annoyed.  
-Well where is it? She asked.  
-Well I don’t know, do I? He said, returning to the screwdriver. She had slowly walked to him, and eventually on the other side of him, where she could see the TARDIS, on the other side of the house, behind him.  
-Hey. Doc. Doc! She says pointing behind him.  
-Don’t call me “Doc”, even I can invent a way out of Hill Valley. He said looking up, not getting the point. -What? He asked again. Gertrude started to laugh, and nudged her arm forward. His eyes dotted to her arm, back at her, and then back at her arm. Ohh! He said, turning around.  
-Hill Valley? She said, laughing.  
-Movie, 1980s. Well I guess they’re still called “films” for you. Oh hello! There you are.  
-So this is your “time ship”? She said as if it was somewhat “lame”.  
-What? It’s cool! Police Boxes are cool!  
-No they’re not!  
-Since when?  
-Since when are they?  
-Since ever!  
-Well it’s not a very good time ship. It’s too small.  
-Small? It’s not small! Well, no, well yes, well...  
He opened the door, and walked inside, and she followed him inside. She obviously didn’t notice that she was “walking” inside a 3x3x10 foot box.  
-What?  
-Aren’t you going to say it?  
-What?  
And that was the time she got it. She was in a very large room, that was supposed to be 3x3x10, but, it wasn’t.  
-It’s...  
-Bigger on the inside! They said together.  
-Yes, yes. I know. He said.  
-What?  
-After all, most do.  
She took a second, just spinning around, multiple times. Then, like a bullet, she ran outside, just to check. She ran around the outside of the TARDIS, still confused. She stopped, then quickly looked back and forth, down the side of the TARDIS, making sure it was “there”. She ran back inside, full of surprise, confusion, and energy.  
-So, anywh... He says, before being cut off. Outside, a man walks up to a lady, and grabs her purse. He runs off with it.  
-Help! The lady screams.  
The Doctor spun around, screwdriver raised. He ran outside, toward the lady. Gertrude follows, surprised that he wants to help.  
-What happened?  
-He stole my purse. Oh I thank you, thank you.  
The Doctor runs off to chase the man, but after a screwdriver buzz, he turned around, having found out he was going the wrong way.  
-Doctor! She said. It is no use. He is gone!  
-No, he isn’t. He said, stopping and picking him up by his collar. He was hiding behind a wall, he then explained. Why did you take this beautiful lady’s purse? he asked smiling towards the lady, and she smiled back.  
-I...I needed the money!  
-Why? Why did you need the money? Why don’t you have money?  
-B...Because the white man take it!  
He just stood there confused. He was wondering why the color of someone’s skin was the determining factor of wealth. Or was it just that the white colored people are criminals? Then it hit him.  
-Wait. He said. 1946. 1946! Oppression! Yes, the black colored natives of South Africa, invaded by the Dutch. The advanced technology of the Dutch made them superior in battle, and thus the natives lost. They raped them of their wealth, and it didn’t recover until 100 years after the apartheid, give or take a few years. That means your family had no wealth to give you. So why do you need to steal it? Is there no other way?  
He let him go, taking the purse. He ran off, leaving the doctor staring at the ground.  
-Mou oshimai da. He said looking down.  
-What? Gertrude asked.  
-It's hopeless. Japanese. He said looking up.  
-What is? She asked.  
-Mou oshimai da. He repeated.  
-No, what is hopeless? She repeated.  
-Everything. He said.  
-What do you mean?  
-All the effort I put in to do right. It does Nothing. Unchangeable.  
-Well can't you just change time?  
-No. It's time-locked. This all leads up to the Apartheid. I cannot change this beyond helping a kind lady with her purse.  
-So that's it? You’re just going to let some division happen? Let them control us?  
-Who is "them"?  
-The white man.  
-The only difference between you and any other white girl is the way light particles bounce off and absorb into your skin. There is No division.  
The old lady snuck off into the night. She did not want to be a part of whatever this was. For she saw it; the light and the icy sliver, within his heart. She knew that his beliefs caused him great pain before, braking him.  
-Kumalo, thinks different.  
-Kumalo?  
-Umfundisi.  
-Ah, Kumalo, Kumalo, great parson of the great Tixo. Tixo! Why does he feel different?  
-He feels, lost.  
-Lost? Lost how?  
-Disgraced.  
-Why? What has he done? What could he have done, to feel so lost?  
-Nothing. He has done nothing.  
-Then why is he lost?  
-I disgraced him, our family. I sold myself, only insight of myself, and not what that would do to those around me.  
-Oh. OH! He said somewhat surprised.  
-That’s why I’m becoming a...  
-”A” what?  
-A Nun.  
-A Nun? You’re to become a Nun? He said laughing.  
-I have broken the family; as Kumalo says “it was permissible to let ourselves die; our culture.”  
-Permissible? It was permissible to let you leave your home in the hills! It was permissible to sell yourself to the lowest of the low, it was permissible for me to have come here.  
-How did you know?  
-The accent; not quite Johannesburg, but a more rural undertone. You left the family, and he let you go.  
-Then the tribe is dead then.  
-Yes, the tribe is dead, been dead. Hundred years dead, but the culture? No, not quite yet. He said with a grin.  
-Here, come with me; come along. It is about time. He said.  
-For what?  
-Me, and my culture to show itself, from the bottom of the dusty floor.  
He led her into the TARDIS, the doors closing behind her. He ran towards the console, flipping a switch or two. He pulled down the monitor, showing where they were.  
-June 16 1976.  
-What?  
-Soweto uprising.  
The monitor depicted police shooting the students as the revolted, more likely, defended themselves.  
-Why? She said, as she could barely continue to watch, as a young boy was gunned down by the people who are supposed to protect him.  
-This is what you see, yes?  
-No doubt. Why are you showing this to me? Why tell me that it isn’t coming to an end if you are just showing me that years in the future, it is just going to get worse? Why show me?  
-Because it gets better.  
-This is something no one ever wishes to see.  
-Or should, but needs to.  
-Why?  
-So it can't happen again, so the culture can evolve.  
-How? How can we get better, if we are like this?  
He flips more switches, showing flashes of Nelson mandela.  
-Nelson Mandela happens. He leads the people out, and into the new world. Gertrude you see, It all gets better. He says putting his hands on her head.  
-More than twenty years before the Soweto uprising, the “Little Rock Nine” walked into the first mixed colored school in America, escorted by the country’s finest 101st Airborne. They ended the standoff between the governor of Arkansas and the 9 kids who just wanted to go to school. The President had to order his army to stop them, and he did. You see, the little countries aren't far behind the developed ones. By the year 2000, it all changes. It is no longer a fight just for black rights, but now women have them, and about 7 years later, gays and kids with Down Syndrome are not just given rights, but welcomed with open arms. He said, flipping on the pictures of modern pro-rights protests.  
-So, now that that is done; your fears and regrets resolved, where do you want to go? He said clasping his hands together, anxious for when and where she wished to go.  
-There’s a road. She said sniffling. It runs from Ixopo in the hills, by my home.  
-Here in 1946?  
-Yes. She nodded.  
-Well that’s boring! He said turning, flipping a switch, taking them to the rich plains, matted by the TARDIS, as it emerged onto the holy grounds.  
She exited the TARDIS, stepping into the well tended grasses near Ndotsheni. She looked happier than ever before; at least in the city. She felt the breeze blow her away, washing the sins from her.  
-Do we learn to hate? She asks.  
-What?  
-Do we learn to hate, once they learn to love?  
-No, not any more than the criminals that show no notion of race; white, black, purple, they are all subject to some criminals. Why?  
-I don’t know. It’s just someone I used to know, always feared that. She said, looking to the sky.  
-So what now? She asked.  
-We travel, if you wish.  
-But my son? What of my son?  
-No, no, no, no. I don’t do kids. Not again. And that was sadly not a joke. The last one didn’t even technically exist, and it still ended poorly. This isn’t the life of a child, your child must develop normally, with Umfundisi.  
-He expects me at morning.  
-Then thats when we will leave. He says as he stands up, reaching out a hand.  
She follows him into the TARDIS, and they arrive at 6:00. They stepped out, figuring out what they had to do.  
-Go. Grab your things, and say goodbye.  
Gertrude goes in the window of her room, and grabs her other clothes, changes, and places her turban and such on the bed.  
-It is time for us to rise. Said Umfundisi.  
-I shall not be long. She said.  
She walked up to her son in his cradle. Tears filled her eyes, for she knew she was done; this was the last time she would see him. She kissed him on the forehead, and left out the window.  
-It is done? The Doctor asked.  
-It is done. She said weeping.  
-Look, he will grow up to be great, I know it. He assured her.  
They entered the TARDIS, slowly looking down at the TARDIS floating upward. She smiled, looking at the tiny people.  
-They are like ants. Like something a child would play with.  
-Yes, like a toy train, climbing up on its narrow gauge from the Umzimkulu valley into the hills. He said.  
-What? She asked.  
-Nothing... It’s a book.  
She turned back to the monitor, looking down at the life she once had. The Doctor looked less happy. He knew something she didn’t, and it’s better that way.


End file.
